The Return of Peeta Mellark
by mynerva283
Summary: Based upon the in between moments of how Katniss and Peeta grew back together following the end of the war and Katniss's exile to District 12.
1. Part 1

**A/N: Based upon the in between moments of how Peeta and Katniss grew back together.. Rated M for lemons.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, just am highly grateful for them.**

The Return of Peeta Mellark

Chapter 1

The shapes moving past my window blur into an incessant dark mass. Periodically the train's lights flicker, engulfing us in pitch black for a few seconds before bathing us, again, in a unhealthy greenish glow. As fast as the train flies along it's track, time seems to creep. My palms itch to be moving, doing something. I sigh quietly, letting my eyes close and my head lean back against the seat.

The high pitch scream tears through my body as I break out in a greasy sweat. I cannot see anything through the dense jungle greens, my eyes rolling wildly in their sockets. My arms feel heavy, too heavy to pull them up to my face to push the large leaves and vines aside. Her screams echo through the air again.

"Katniss!" I cry out.

"Peeta, help m-" Her voice is cut short with a harsh grunt. A thundering boom echoes through the air

"KATNISS! No!" My heart knows she is dead, and it's all my fault.

"Sir," A firm hand jostles me awake.

I stir roughly, groaning. "Sorry," I mutter, unable to meet the attendant's eyes.

"Quite alright, Mr. Mellark." He smiles wanly then moves on to the next car.

"Not real, not real, not real..." I softly mutter under my breath, so as not to bring even more attention to myself, rubbing my palms compulsively against my thighs, roughly. I glance around surreptitiously, grateful that the only other occupant in the back of the car seems to not have noticed my night terror. Hopefully I wasn't too loud this time.

The doctors didn't want me to leave. Dr. Aurelius, especially, wasn't too keen on me being on my own. But I didn't give him, or them, a chance. I have been away from her for far too long as it is and God only knows how she's deteriorated by now. Her grey orbs haunt me, the fear and hurt in them. My biggest terror now is that she thinks I've abandoned her as well. I need her now, more then I ever have, and I know she needs me too.

This morning, after Dr. Aurelius made his rounds, I was waiting in his office, pacing back and forth in his tiny room. Finally he stepped across the thresh hold, eyes that wouldn't meet mine as he greeted me hello.

"I know why you're here Mr. Mellark." He started.

"Peeta. Why can't you call me by my name?" I distractedly tore a hand through my shaggy, pale hair as I perch in the chair facing his cluttered desk.

"I wish you would reconsider this. I don't think you're ready." He dropped into his own chair.

"Four months. She's been alone for four months." I cry out, the desperation in my voice pulling it high and reedy. I've heard the whispers. That she was banished to 12, that her mother and Gale abandoned her to their own lives. Her mother I can forgive, Gale never. How he could 'love' her so much, and then just disappear when she needs someone the most. At least someone would have been with her, even if it couldn't have been me.

"Now we both know she's not alone." Dr. Aurelius's condescending tone pushes me into a rage.

"Really? Who's been there to help her? Haymitch?" I scoff. "He can't pull himself out a bottle long enough to wipe his ass, let alone take care of her." I scowl angrily, daring him to defy me in this.

"One Ms. Sae is with her." He mumbles as he consults a form in what I take is her file. A thick, dusty tome that's not been touched for a while.

"Oh God, like that's any better." The nights I've lain awake, fearing her despair have been true all along. She's been alone, with no one to help her deal with the pain and fears. The nights she must have screamed herself awake, or to sleep, haunt me. And Greasy Sae, as good a person as she is, cannot ease her anguish like I can.

"Well, if she would just answer the phone, I could-"

I level my eyes to him. The anger there, the hate, bores into his weak face. He drops his gaze to the desk.

"You know her, you know how she is. If I can't save her-" my voice breaks, "If I can't bring her back, you'll pay for this. I'm leaving now, today. You've kept me from her for too fucking long." I rise kicking the chair from behind me to crash loudly to the floor. "Just sign the damn papers."

"Mr. Mellark, I really must advise against-"

"Fuck you." I tear through the door frame, pushing myself as fast as my artificial leg would let me. The train leaves in less than an hour.

Chapter 2

As much as I've waited for this day to come, I'd be stupid to deny I'm terrified. We didn't exactly part on the best of terms. I wasn't allowed to see her after she shot Coin. That moment, when I stopped her from dying, when she screamed at me to let her go; when I whispered "I can't", that's the last time we've seen each other. I can't deny I've tried to reason with her request a thousand times. Why she pleaded with me to let go. Was she trying to convince me to let her die, or was she requesting that I forget about her and move on? I just don't know.

After she was put up on 'trial' and declared innocent by temporary insanity, she was immediately carted off back to 12. I wasn't allowed to see her, nor she me. I don't know if she even wanted to.

Any time I've asked after her, the doctors subtly remind me that she isn't beneficial to my mental well being. And the more I asked the longer I was watched, studied, 'cured'. I learned quickly to avoid the subject of her. But they couldn't take my thoughts, hopes, dreams, even my night terrors.

Each night, after rousing myself screaming at the top of my lungs, crying for her, for Finnick, for myself even, some faceless doctor would run in, pushing a syringe of clear liquid in my veins. I wasn't allowed to talk about it, to cry through the remaining fear.

Then in the morning Dr. Aurelius would question my dream; try to psychoanalyze my fears. As if he, or anyone else, could understand. Murder never leaves you, you can never wipe that blood off your hands. So I would always remain silent.

"So, lets talk about your memories.." He trails off.

"The real ones or the unreal ones?" I question, letting him know I've gotten control over my mind. Little by little, I was able to pull myself back from the brink of insanity. That's something else she did for me, one more debt I'll never be able to repay in a thousand years.

"So you can tell the difference?" He nods, writing something in his small, cramped handwriting.

I roll my eyes, knowing exactly what he's doing. We've talked this through a million times already. "Yes," I say sullenly. "But you already know that." I cross my arms over my chest and sigh, leaning back in my chair.

He rolls his tongue over his teeth, then runs his hand over the morning stubble of his chin and cheek. He scribbles one more thing, then puts the pen down.

"How?" he questions.

"Because the real memories aren't shiny. Can we move on to something else?"

"Are your dreams shiny?"

"Not always. The worst ones aren't." I hedge.

"Worst ones?"

I purse my lips together. I don't like talking about this, about her. "The night terrors are not shiny. My night terrors are about death, and murder. About the things the Capitol took away from us. About losing Katniss, about losing myself. Guess those things really did happen."

"Do you take your medication?"

And on and on, day after day.

But now I've left that behind me to face this life on my own, with her by my side if she'll allow it. I don't know how long it will take me, how far gone she is, but I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her, bringing her back from the ledge.

Finally the train slows, large crumbling archways announcing District 12. I gather my bag to my chest. There's not much in the worn, leather satchel. Just a few changes of clothes, my sketchbook and the small, black pearl that will always belong to Katniss. I'm sure she must think she's lost it. And I hope that it's not eaten away at her.

One day, several months ago, when Dr. Aurelius and I were 'talking' he was called suddenly from the room. I quickly jumped to the door to watch his frame shamble down the hall. When he turned the corner I immediately pounced on his desk. I rifled through my file, catching small phrases and notes, 'PTSD', 'OCD', 'Neurosis' 'Implacable Romantic Notions'. I'm so glad he's able to define my life and what I've went through in these general and broad terms.

I rifle through the filing cabinet, finding her file. 'Everdeen, Katniss' written in his handwriting. My hands tremble as I slowly open the cover. But before my eyes can delve into her prognosis, her pain and suffering that's sure to be filed away as generally as mine, they lock onto the small, round jewel taped to the first page. Her pearl. My last token of an undying and never ending love. Of all the things they've taken away from her, this makes me the most irate.

To me, this pearl is a symbol of more than my love. It's our vows to each other on those nights so long ago. The way we laid together in the dark sharing our fears and hopes and dreams; holding each other and sharing tender kisses. Our faith to each other to keep the other alive in those terrifying and murderous arenas. The promises to her that I would stay with her always. They've taken all those things from us, and more. And I see red.

I snatch the pearl from it's sticky binds and shove it deep into my pocket. It takes all I have not to run from the room to find Dr. Aurelius and beat him bloody into the floor. Pound his face until it's nothing but stringy meat and gristle. But I know doing that would seal my fate to remain here forever. Whatever I do, however I act, has to always bring me to Katniss.

I stow her file away, pushing it back into the cabinet and slam the door shut. I glance at the desk, checking to make sure I've left it as it was. But it's so cluttered and messy I doubt he'd realize it even if I'd dumped a hundred random papers onto it's surface.

I sit back down, steadying my breathing, willing my hear to resume it's normal beats. I wipe the beads of sweat from my brow and upper lip. When he returns, it's as if nothing had happened. I find that I'm a pretty good actor when the need arises.

When I step off the train, it's so dark the night seems to swallow the world around me. Everything looks so different but yet it's the same. No one disembarks but me and no one is here to greet me. But that's okay. I left so quickly there wasn't time to inform anyone I would be arriving tonight, and besides; there's only one person in the world I want to see right now.

I pull the strap of my bag higher up on my should and start walking. It doesn't take long to see, even in the light cast only by a pale moon, how much everything is changed. The path towards Victor's Village takes me through the heart of what was once Merchants Row. I see the crumbles of my old life. The remains of our bakery choke me up and hot tears start flowing from my eyes. I swipe at them roughly.

I stand at what used to be the doorway of our bakery and home. I remember the years I spent here with my family, the few good times and mostly the bad ones. My mother, always so heavy handed with punishment and harsh words. My father, quiet and meek, too afraid of his own shadow to ever speak up for us. My brothers, who were almost like strangers to me. As much as I didn't like my family, they were just that: my family. I silently mourn their loss and know that Katniss is all that I have left, truly. She's my family now, one way or another. Whether she'll have me or not, I'll leave this earth burning for her.

Even before I make it halfway through the square my leg starts it's low throb. Months of little physical activity has left me unprepared for all the walking I'll have to do now. I start limping more pronouncedly now.

Finally I stand at the archway leading into our subdivision. The houses, all the same, sit quietly in the dark. The small lane that loops back to this spot is dotted with the twelve houses, six on the inside and six on the outside, all the same from the outside.

There are no small plumes of smoke curling away from a chimney, a small light shining through a window. It's as if death has settled over the land. As quietly as I can, I shuffle to her door. It takes all I have not to fling the door wide and run to her, pulling her into a tight embrace and planting a thousand kisses upon her lovely face. Slowly, I turn the knob, praying it's unlocked. Finding that it is, I ease the door open, afraid.

The fear grips me deep in my bowels. I know it's stupid, but this unknown is daunting. What if she hates me? What if she's forgotten me, left my memory behind? What if she blames me for all that's happened? I tremble all over at the thought. I feel the need to vomit and swallow it down harshly.

I find her asleep, leaning uncomfortably in an old rocking chair in the kitchen. Her transformation shocks me to my core. Gone is the woman I knew, leaving a broken shell of her. Her face is ashen and gaunt; her cheekbones standing out, skeletal. There are dark bruises pooled beneath her closed eyes. Her lips are cracked and dry, pulled harshly in a small grimace. Her limp, tangled hair falls across her back. Her bones jut out everywhere. Thin arms, a neck too long, her collar bones as if they cut. Even under her clothes, I can see how her hip bones stand out. Her shirt falls flat against her ribcage. My God, has she even eaten anything in all this time? My heart clenches tightly, beating erratically. Her clothes haven't been changed in God knows how long and the smell of her unwashed body takes my breath. I whimper, fighting back the scream that builds in my throat. The anger takes over soon.

Carefully, I scoop her up into my arms, noticing how her limbs are stiff in their pose. I slowly make my way into the living room to gently lower her to the couch. A small sigh escapes her lips and some of the tension eases from her brow. I cover her with a blanket and then soothingly, lightly, run my knuckles across her cheek. She stirs slightly.

I gather my bag and trudge across the dark lane to enter my house. My mind is racing a million miles a minute, thinking of all the possibilities to help her. And then I know. A small grim smile plays across my lips. In a few hours, when the light breaks over the horizon, I'll get started. But for now, there's something else I need to do.

I open the front door and throw my bag into the foyer then turn and leave.


	2. Part 2

Chapter 3

"You FUCK!" I scream and shove Haymitch as hard as I can. His sleeping form tumbles from his chair and he lands roughly in the floor, amidst a pile of trash and bottles.

He lunges up swinging his dagger wildly through the air. "What the Fuck, kid!" He screams at me, seeing who has assaulted him, pulling himself wearily from the floor.

My breathing is heavy and I take a minute to slow it down, try to calm my nerves.

"What the hell, I ain't' seen you in months and you sneak in the middle of the night and what- shove me to the damn floor?" He looks around the shamble of a room, finally eyeing a bottle with a swig or two of liquor still in it.

"YOU FUCK!" I scream again.

Haymitch eyes me disdainfully as he swigs his swill, wincing at the burning of the liquid sliding down his throat.

"You left her alone! You abandoned her. YOU PROMISED ME YOU'D TAKE CARE OF HER, PROTECT HER!" My voice breaks, "You're all she had..."

"I tried." He drops his eyes to the table, running a shaky finger along the gouges and scars of the wood.

"You lie." I whisper softly. "I hate you."

I turn to leave before my anger brings me to the breaking point and I do something drastic to him. I shake my head softly. "I loved you, she loved you. We were all we had. And you fucking drank it away."

"I'm sorry kid." He mutters to himself, more than me.

"Fuck you." I leave.

The day starts to catch up to me as I re-enter my house. There's just one more thing that I need to do before I can crash. I slowly pick up my satchel and ease up the stairs. When I reach the upstairs landing, I pause.

My eyes scan the door facing me. My bedroom door. Closed, just as I left it. To my right the bathroom, door standing wide open, showing off the neat and tidy room. To my left a small hallway that turns in a 180 degree angle, leading off to the two spare rooms. They too are open; lonely and disused. The first is my studio, where I can faintly make out my easel and canvases. The bookshelf that hold my supplies. The second room is truly a spare bedroom. Although I don't know who, if anyone, has even spent the night there. I've never really known what to do with it. I walk to my bedroom and fling the door open.

Everything is the same. The white bedspread run through with dark orange and green piping. I ordered it once upon a time, thinking how much Katniss would love the two colors twining and intermingling. Before I knew the truth about our time in the first Hunger Games. The bed stands directly across from me, under a large window drawn shut behind a curtain that mirrors the design of the duvet. On each side is a small bedside table, both with a small dark-orange shaded lamp. On the right side, my side, is a book I was reading and an alarm clock. A rug lies on the floor on each side of the bed, dark orange in color as well.

Along the wall to my right, I let my eyes wander to a long dresser topped with a mirror. It's bare save a bottle of cologne and my brush and comb on one end and on the other a framed drawing of Katniss I drew a while back. It's the closest thing I have to a photo of her.

The door to the master bathroom is to the right side of my bedroom door, a hamper between it and the bathroom door. I lift the lid and see a small pile of dirty laundry. Maybe I should just throw out the old clothes. On the left hand side of the bedroom door is a bookcase containing a few books and knickknacks, and then the door to my huge walk-in closet. Finally, on the left hand wall, under another window covered with the same curtain design, a small vanity covered with a few generic feminine beauty supplies: a brush and comb, makeup brushes, a box of tissues. That too was an impulsive decision. Something I thought Katniss would like, when I thought we'd eventually be sharing a bedroom. Next to the vanity is a tall dresser, topped with a few photos of my family.

I ordered the bedroom furniture while we were on the train coming home from the first game. When I thought that the way Katniss had acted in the arena was the truth. I had sat down with Effie and explained what I wanted: she took care of the rest. When Katniss had finally told me how she felt, or rather lack of, I couldn't bring myself to redecorate. I don't know why, honestly. I think that there was a small part of me that didn't quite believe her, holding on to the hope that she would find her love for me along the way. Now I find this room somehow comforting. A familiarity that was here before the last game and the war. Before the trackerjacking. A small piece of hope of my love for her and her love for me.

I lay the satchel on the bed and pull out the clothes. I contemplate putting the faded grey clothes in the dresser but impulsively toss them in the hamper, instead. I think I'll burn the whole lot.

The pearl, I hold in my hand for a few minutes, just remembering the past: when I dug it out of a random oyster, how I presented it to her as a token of my love, the look of delight and yes, something more, on her face.

I've been told by Johanna that she carried it with her everywhere. That she would methodically rub her thumb over it for hours on end, how she kept it dear to her over anything else she owned. That knowledge held me together through a lot of bad thoughts and difficult memories.

I softly rub it along my lower lip somehow feeling a little closer to her. I pull out the top drawer of my dresser, the one that holds my socks and underwear, to find a handkerchief pushed toward the back. I unfurl the cloth, fold the pearl into it, then knot the whole thing tightly. I have a plan for that pearl, one that I hope someday will bear to fruition.

Having done that, I hang the satchel in the closet and then pull out an old pair of work boots and some faded jeans and a t-shirt. I quickly change from the horrid, standard issue District 13 greys that somehow carried over into the District and then pull on a jacket that's seen better days. I toss those rags into the hamper as well. Fastidious tidiness was beaten into me, literally, from an early age. A place for everything and everything in it's place. I do it without even thinking anymore.

Behind the house is a small shed filled with much of nothing. There is, however, a shovel, hoe and wheelbarrow among a few other tools. I gently lay the equipment in the wheelbarrow, so as to not make much noise, then push it along behind the outer row of houses.

Behind the Victor's Village is a small wooded area that really only serves as a screen between what used to be the high, electrified fencing. Beyond that is the deep, thick forest that Katniss loves so dear. The wooded area is probably only about three acres in it's entirety, stretched about four acres long. Surely I'll find what I'm looking for in here.

The dawn's beautiful colors erupt along the horizon and I pause to stare lovingly at the muted wash of oranges and pinks. There's something welcoming about a sunrise: it's unsaid promises of unknown opportunities where anything seems possible. The silent loveliness soothes my nerves and eases me.

Finally, I locate a tiny grove of primrose bushes. They're small and slightly wilted, but with some care I know they'll thrive again. After about an hour I get the last one out of the ground. Slowly, so as to not jostle the roots too roughly, I wheel the barrow to her yard. I want these to be in the perfect spot, but where? Along the east side of the house is a row of windows that look in on her living room. Perfect. I begin the digging once more, little by little, methodically depositing the five bushes in her yard.

Even though the morning is cool, I'm sweating with all this exertion. I feel out of shape and soft. My face feels hot. Suddenly I hear a crash in the house and then the front door being thrown wide. Abruptly she is there. It's as if she's a crazy woman, hair sticking out in a messy halo, body jerking, eyes wild. I hold myself back from running to her.

We gaze at each other for what feels like an eternity. My heart hammers so hard in my chest it's painful.

"You're back," she whispers.

"Dr. Aurelius wouldn't let me leave the Capitol until yesterday," I tell her. "By the way, he said to tell you he can't keep pretending he's treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone." Why, oh why, of all the things I wanted my first words to be, did I say that? I groan inwardly, frowning slightly outward.

I watch her make a half-hearted attempt to straighten herself, which boosts my spirits. She cares what she looks like in front of me.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her. I thought we could plant them along the side of the house..."

A look of pure terror crosses her face fleetingly before it is replaced by something I can't quite place. She nods jerkily, then turns and runs back to her house. After a minute I hear a loud crashing coming from upstairs. Again, I fight the urge to run after her. Somethings you have to do on your own.

I turn back to my chore, finishing the planting, then lug my tools back home. I automatically put each thing back in it's place, then trudge upstairs once more. I pull my dirty clothes off, deposit them too into the hamper and climb into the shower after pulling off my fake limb. I turn the faucet knob, forcing the water to the hottest temperature I can stand. The new skin of my burns and scars are still fragile and after a few minutes of washing my hair and body, I can't stand the heat any longer. I reattach my leg, then gently towel off, leaving my hair damp. I need to cut it.

I wearily climb into bed, after donning just a pair of boxers. The smell of my house is the same, even if the air is stale. I pull the covers over me after detaching my leg once more and dropping it to the floor. Then I pull the window open to let the morning air flow through to flush out the stale smell and finally fatigue pulls me under. I pray I don't have any night terrors.

Chapter 4

The cool air bites at my bare chest. I slowly open my eyes and realize it's dark outside. I'm not sure what day or time it is and the confusion threatens to pull my into another attack. I fight it, clenching my eyes shut. I let my body feel the soft bed clothes, the cold air, the rough feel of my hand across my stubbly cheek. Slowly the feeling abates, and I can open my eyes again.

"My name is Peeta Mellark. I live in District 12. I survived the Hunger Games and the Rebellion Wars. I love Katniss Everdeen. She needs me." I recite this slowly, again and again, until the lingering confusion is gone.

I think it's roughly about 5 a.m. But what day I'm not sure. I know I've been asleep for a while. But I'm home, and it's time to start the rest of my life.

I climb out of bed, pull on my leg and then throw on a pair of sleep pants. My stomach rumbles deeply in my gut alerting me that I can't quite remember the last time I ate. And if I can't, I doubt that Katniss can remember when her last meal was either.

Lumbering down the stairs, I find I'm slightly excited to bake something. Being held at the Capitol, I was allowed to meander through out the hospital ward at random but never past. I haven't looked at a kitchen since I helped bake Finnick and Annie's wedding cake.

Just the thought of them pulls tightly through my gut. Finnick died fighting for a better life for his wife, and I remember thinking, when he was torn to shreds by those mutts, why couldn't it have been me. But I've learned to stop feeling guilty for living when so many of my friends died. I deserve to live just as much as they did and it's not my fault they didn't make it. Well except for one...but I tuck the thoughts of Mitchell away to ponder later. That's a special kind of guilt I'll carry with me always.

Turning into the kitchen I am rewarded by a well stocked pantry. I can't believe it. I've been gone for a very long time. Someone has taken it upon themselves to refill my baking supplies. Maybe it was Haymitch submitting to rare feelings of guilt. Even if it was, he's not forgiven. Not yet, at least. I get to work.

After pulling out the two beautiful warm brown loaves, I immediately tuck one into a dish towel and then the other into the bread bin. I return up the stairs to change into more public friendly attire, then retrieve the warm loaf of bread and head over to Katniss's. As I close in on her front door, Greasy Sae appears out of no where.

Sae engulfs me warmly in a firm hug. "Glad to see you're back, boy. She needs you more than you know." She jerks her head toward Katniss's house. "I been worried 'bout her. Thought she was a goner a time or two." She swiped at a faint tear crawling down her cheek.

"I'm going to take care of her." I choke out, suddenly overcome by her heartfelt words. "For the rest of my life."

"I know you will, boy." She leans up on her tiptoes, and lightly kisses me on my cheek. "I know you will."

I follow Greasy Sae into the house and then the kitchen where Katniss is sitting on the floor with her mangy, yellow cat. She's been crying, but looks much better than when I last saw her. I offer her a shy smile and hold the bread out to her. She climbs to her feet, walking over to me.

"Thank you." She looks up at me. I pull her into a warm hug and she leans into me, the tension easing out of her small frame. I kiss the top of her head. "For everything."

Greasy Sae makes us breakfast and we eat.

Chapter 5

Each day is a challenge that I'm more than willing to face. That doesn't mean it's always easy, but not once will I ever give up on Katniss. We have our good days, and we definitely have our bad ones.

I've taken to spending a lot of time at Katniss's house. The first few days were difficult. We slowly and methodically emptied her home of the cobwebs and dust that seems to have settled into every nook and cranny. She filed away things that are too painful to look at; her mother's knitting, Prim's few belongings. I carefully place them in the back of the closet of the bedroom her mother used. We cleaned and scrubbed, and in doing so Katniss's old self seemed to surface little by little.

Sometimes it's fleeting, but she's in there somewhere.

Katniss has taken to the forest more, now. She's been known to be gone all day long and bring nothing back with her, just a weariness that causes her to sleep for hours at a time. But other days she comes back with a bag full of squirrels or rabbits; one time a thin turkey. She shows me how to clean the carcasses and then we go trade them for other things in the newly built Trader's Hob.

Her small smiles are few, but they come back as well. Today we are outside tending to Prim's roses, kneeling side by side, when Katniss suddenly halts and grasps my hand. She smiles up at me, my heart beating in my throat, and whispers, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I hope they grow well this summer." I respond, a warm smile upon my lips.

"No, thank you for coming back." She swipes the back of her hand, the one not holding mine, across her forehead smearing dirt. "For staying with me, even when you shouldn't have."

"Always." I lean in and lightly kiss her lips. She closes her eyes. I extend the kiss longer, though chaste, for a few more seconds until I pull away.

"You have dirt, just there." I gently wipe the smudge off her face, then let my thumb ride down her cheek to her chin.

We turn back to the flowers.

A week later, Katniss comes to my house. It's a rare day that I've let her be. Sometimes, usually after she's spoken to Dr. Aurelius, she needs a few hours to herself, to just breathe and gain perspective. I know that when she's ready, she'll come to me.

She knocks gently, though I've admonished her time and again that it's not necessary. I quickly answer the door, finding her standing there with a timid, uncertain look across her face.

"I need your help, Peeta." She gazes up at me, her grey eyes belying the pain she's hiding. I say nothing, letting her continue.

"I want to write a book. About everything. The reaping, the first game, the Quarter Quell, the Tributes, the war, my family. I want to write about everyone we knew and everything I can't bear to forget. But I can't do it alone." She looks down, twisting the toe of her boot along the stone porch. "Will you help me to remember, to record our lives?"

I stand there a second, scared at what she's asking me to do. One wrong memory can throw me into an attack. And I'm terrified at what would happen to her were she around for that. But I can never say no to her.

"Sure," I reach out for her hand. "But let me finish up in here."

"Not right now. Dr. Aurelius is going to send me the things I need for it. I just...I just wanted to know if you would."

"Of course I will." I lead her into the house, holding tight to her warm hand.

We return to my kitchen where the smell of cheese buns wafts out from the oven. "I made you something." I tell her, sliding her bangs gently behind an ear.

District 12 has begun to repair itself, slowly but surely. Some days we walk to town to see what's new or if anyone else has arrived to begin anew. There are days when we help to clear the rubble, days when we cannot bear to be witness to it. Everyone seems to understand.

Thom, who is now the unofficial leader of the reconstruction crew, asks me if I'd like to rebuild the bakery. I tell him I'll have to get back with him, fear twisting around my balls and winding it's way up my spine.

There's a large part of me that really wants to do it. I had once dreamed of taking over the bakery after I had finished school and someday running it with my children. But in reality I had doubted my mother would ever had let that happen. But I'm scared that I can't handle it, that it will be too much to face by myself.

I broach the subject to Katniss. We're in my kitchen; me baking while she fumbles with an attempt to repair a hole in her game bag. She puts her work down on the kitchen table and gazes over the counter at me. She bites her lower lip, distracting me for a moment as my eyes focus on her mouth, then purses them.

"What do you want to do?" she asks.

"I don't know, honestly. There's a big part of me that really wants to do this. But I know it won't be easy and I'm scared to do it alone."I answer shakily. I turn back to the oven, feeling vulnerable.

"You wouldn't be alone, of course. I'll help you if you want."

I turn back to her, taken aback. I never thought it would be something she'd want to do.

"Really?" I ask incredulously, "You'd do that for me?"

She comes around the counter, taking my hands in hers. "Of course I'd like to help you. I don't know how much help I'll actually be, though. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you." She adds shyly.

Unthinking, I lower my face to hers. As I gather her in my arms, I gently place a small kiss upon her lips. She whimpers softly, then reciprocates, closing her eyes. Our chaste kiss quickly turns heated and I tug lightly at her lower lip with my teeth. Her lips opens to mine and I trace her mouth with my tongue. She timidly responds. Her hands slide slowly up my chest to wind through my hair, twisting slightly.

I slide my hands around her waist to rest them upon her hips, then pull her easily to me. She sighs. Our mouths battle against each other until I finally pull apart to rest my forehead against hers, catching her gaze as she opens her eyes again. Our breathing is heavy, heated. We stare at each other, seeing the fire in the other's eyes. The pit of my stomach is tight.

"Wow," she breathes. I chuckle, responding, "Yeah."

"Let's do it." She announces. I pull back to search her face. I raise an eyebrow in question.

"Let's rebuild the bakery."

Chapter 6

Dr. Aurelius's package arrives from the Capitol and we begin her book in earnest. She writes out all the details in her careful handwriting. Obituaries, memories, details of our lives. I carefully add the illustrations: the portraits of Tributes, her family, plants she wants to remember. Any and everything else she can think to add, details of a life she wants to never forget.

We decide to include Haymitch, hoping he can add to what little we know of some of the Victors that fell in the Quarter Quell, or anything else he'd be willing to share.

I haven't really spoken to him since I arrived, turning in my mind how I feel about his actions. There's a large part of me that knows he didn't maliciously abandon Katniss. That he too was hurting, has been hurting for over twenty-five years. But I can't quite bring myself to forgive him just yet.

I haven't told Katniss of what I did that early morning, my first day back. He's quietly came to her a couple times since to see how she's doing and ask about me, she says. But in truth, I miss the camaraderie we had shared. He was the only one I had told my most deepest secret: the love I had carried for Katniss for all of those years.

He had given me the courage to tell her of my feelings, albeit on live television only days before we were to die. I can't help but feel that had he not done that, our lives would have never turned out this way. More than likely, I would have died in that arena, Katniss never knowing the torch I carried for her; my greatest gift never realized.

I reasoned to myself that he deserved a second chance.

Katniss and I waited until that afternoon to chance a visit to Haymitch. His sleeping habits are so erratic, that you never know when he'll be asleep or awake. The only time I definitely know he'll be awake is the late hours of night, but I don't want to wait til then to visit. I don't like Katniss or I to be out that time of night.

She knocked loudly and we waited with baited breath. Finally we hear the crashing and kicking of bottles and random trash as he barrels toward the door.

"What?" He erupts, throwing wide the door. "Oh," he adds, seeing us. "Uh, well..." he rubs a palm across the back of his messy, unkempt hair. "Come on in, I guess." He eyes me warily, over the top of her head.

Katniss really does all the taking. She shares her idea of the book, the things she wants to record. She asks if he'd be willing to help on some of the entries. We wait while he ponders this over.

"I guess. I just don't know why you'd want to relive any of that shit." He belches loudly and reaches for a flask hidden in his boot.

"It's just something I need to do, for me." She replies, softly.

"For us." I add, taking her hand. She smiles thinly up at me.

Haymitch eyes us, our hands, then me. He runs his tongue over his teeth, sucking at them then sighs heavily, inherently running a rough palm across his face and chin.

"Sure, I..." He sighs again, deeply. "Yeah, sure."

Haymitch stays true to his word, visiting my house a few days later. I serve coffee and rolls, but he sticks to his alcoholic diet. After about an hour, Katniss realized she'd forgotten something at her house and left to retrieve it.

"So, I uh..." He begins. "I'm sorry for what I did."

"I know." I respond, keeping my voice level. The betrayal he did to us still stings. "I know that you were hurting too. I know you've been hurting for a long time. But I need to know that if it comes down to it, and we need you, you'll be there. And you just weren't."

He drops his gaze. "Dammit boy. Don't you think that I don't' know that? I guess I just thought she needed her space, and some time."

"When I found her, she was all bones and skin. She hadn't eaten a decent meal in a long time and she had been wearing the same clothes for months. She was a damn zombie." My eyes bore into his, the memories of that day burning fresh. "She was well on her way to dying. What if they'd have kept me longer, what if it'd been another couple of month before I could've gotten away? What if she'd have died?" I whisper this last part, terrified at how true that could have been. "There's no life for me if she's not in it. I couldn't bear that too." A small tear trickles down my cheek, but I make no move to swipe it away.

"I don't know what else to say." He mumbles. "It won't happen again."

"Thank you." I relent. I know I can't hold this over him forever. Slowly, I wipe the tear's track from my face.

"So you're doing a good job of getting her back to herself. I noticed she was holdin' your hand."

"Yeah, little by little. But it's not all me. She's brought herself back, too."

"Yeah, I think you've both done that for each other."

"I love her more than anything."

He just nods in understanding.

Chapter 7

She still wakes most nights screaming. I can hear her from my bedroom, the screams pulling me from my slumber, and I always take off running, as fast as my leg will allow, to her side. I soothe and calm her, running a tender hand through her hair, along her arm. She whimpers and cries softly. Many nights I quietly scoop her up in my arms and carry her to my bed. Sometimes I simply crawl into bed with her.

There's been more than a few nights when I've been woken by her soothing hand upon my brow. My screams and cries waking her, sending her running to me. I'm secretly terrified that in my stupor I'll hurt her.

Finally we decide to resort to our old habits and she stays with me at night; our presence reassuring each other.

The first morning, I awoke to her sitting up in bed staring around the room. I don't think she'd really paid attention to it before, or if she had she's never mentioned how I've decorated.

"Oh, Peeta. It's beautiful."

I smiled timidly. "Do you really think so?"

"Yeah, it's perfect." She replied softly.

"It's all for you." She pulled me into a tender embrace.

A few days later, after we had turned in for the night, she began to whimper in her sleep.

"No, no..." she writhed and kicked. "Please, not him, please..."

I gently rolled over to face her, soothing her with shushes and quiet words.

"Please, no. Not Peeta. Please..." He head jerked up at her cries of my name on her lips. "PEETA!" She burst into tears.

"It's alright, baby, it's alright. I've got you." I rubbed her arms and back, pulling her into me. She opened her eyes, wide with fear, and took me in.

Hungrily, she pulled me into her arms and crushed her mouth onto mine. Our lips slanted and worked together. She moaned deep in her throat and my gut seemed to break open with thousands of butterflies. She began climbing my body to bring herself closer to my face.

"Peeta.." she whispered huskily.

I inhaled sharply.

Her hands began roaming my chest and stomach. I don't sleep with a shirt on, so her hot skin seemed to blaze a trail across me. Instinctively, my hands found their way to her hips, pulling her into me.

"Katniss" I moaned. I was beginning to catch fire from inside.

Her hands trailed to my hair to begin tugging and pulling. We pulled apart, gasping for breath. Her eyes, dusky in the dark, bored into mine.

"Please..." she begged. I was not one to deny.

I pulled her tighter to me and began a long and slow onslaught upon her mouth. My tongue roaming, suckling her bottom lip, then gently biting and pulling it out. Her hands strayed to my back.

I traced a palm across her flat stomach to rest lightly under a breast. Slowly, I thumbed the bottom swell before easing over the nipple, pinching slightly, while my other hand cupped the other one. She gasped into my mouth, her eyes widening.

My hands let go of her body, as I quickly pulled her shirt up over her chest. I let go of her mouth to latch unto her breast, the one I was cupping, while i began to stroke and tweak the other again. I suckled gently on the firm peak, then biting, then sucking.

Her leg brough itself up and around my good hip, pulling me in tightly. My cock, rock hard, pressed firmly into her center. I moaned loudly at the contact behind my thin sleep pants and boxers.

"Katniss.." I groaned, leaving her breast. "We can't do this."

She froze in my arms for a few seconds, registering what I had said. Her hands dropped from my back, and slowly her leg slid back around. She pulled her tank top down to cover her exposed chest, before hugging herself tightly.

"Don't..don't you want me?" She whispered softly. I could hear the rejection in her voice.

"God, more than anything! It's just that...I don't think we're ready for this." I bit out, somewhat harshly.

"Oh." She frowned.

"I want you so bad, it hurts," I whisper huskily in her ear. "But I also want you to be sure that it's what you want too. I want you to be sure you want _me_, and it isn't just some reaction to a bad dream." And it's true.

For years I've dreamt about this happening, and more. Me gazing down at her beautiful face as I moved between her legs while she screamed my name , nights spent in the throes of passion, slowly sliding her panties down and then ravaging her into mindless oblivion with only my tongue. My cock is aching so hard and it's taking every ounce of self control I possess to stop this now. Because as much as I do want this, I want her to want me to be the one doing it because she loves me. I _don't_ want it to be because she wanted to feel something besides fear or anguish.

I gently tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, then kissed her lightly on her nose. "Now go to sleep." As if it were that easy.

"Okay," she conceded. I rolled onto my back, praying she would understand my reasons and that I am not just rejecting her.

I folded out of bed, pulled on my leg, then stumbled to the bathroom. After closing the door and turning on the light I turned to stand over the toilet. I tugged my boxers down over my rock hard dick, smeared the pre-cum down the shaft, then began stroking. I thought of her small hands doing this, stroking my length, cupping my balls and it sent me over the edge. I spurted into the bowl with a grunt. After flushing away the mess, I returned to bed.

In the dark, she reached out for my hand, curling her fingers through mine.

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed or faved this. It's my first attempt at a fanfic and I'm grateful for the encouragement. Also, I borrow a few lines directly from Mockingjay, in particular when Katniss finds Peeta planting Prim's bushes. No plagiarism intended, just trying to stay as authentic to the story as possible.**


	3. Part 3

**A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. The real world required some attention. Thank you to everyone who has Reviewed, Followed, or Faved this. Your support is extremely appreciated.**

Chapter 8

After that night, something changed between us. It was if Katniss were allowing herself, for once, to accept and kindle her emotions. For so long she had denied herself the possibility, the hope, of knowing love. Even if we weren't friends before the reaping, I had watched her long enough to understand a few things about her. She had kept everyone at arm's length, save Gale.

Oh, how jealous I used to be of him, imagining the conversations they must have shared, the quiet laughs, the bond forged by depending upon each other for so much. In my mind I always imagined their shared kissed and whispers of affection for each other. Many a night I had lain awake, sleep evading me, as I pictured them in their throes of passion. As much as I've always wanted to ask her about their relationship, I've come to see how they were never anything but friends. I know that Gale had admitted to loving her, but in my meager opinion he is a damn fool. I could never abandon Katniss, not for anything in the world, even if she never were to love me back. The fact that he left her proves to me without a shadow of a doubt that if he ever did truly love her, she couldn't be enough. Apparently glory and fame are more important. I've secretly always thought that Katniss is too strong and independent for his tastes; too hard to control.

If anything at all could said to have been gained from these last few years, it is that Katniss can finally know a world in which she has choices over her life. With this understanding she has became more open and affectionate. Each day brings us closer and more in tune with the other. For the first time since the 74th games I begin to truly believe she could someday love me as deeply as I love her.

True to her word, Katniss accompanied me everyday to the bakery. In the beginning it was only to design a layout and choose the building supplies and equipment we'll need to run it. Thom asked me if I wanted to rebuild upon the old site, but I chose a new location closer to the center of the Square. I was afraid that too many memories would haunt me, and besides, we all deserve a fresh start.

Several weeks in, with the construction mostly finished, I impulsively decide to stroll along the new buildings and lanes. Suddenly I find myself standing in front of my old home. The construction crew has finished pulling apart the charred beams and felled debris leaving a barren, blackened space, but in my mind it is as if nothing has happened. I can still see the deceiving facade that belies a friendly warmth; the light brown bricks, some almost a dark cream, others the color of toast, topped by a sturdy, shingled roof, the wooden sign hanging above the wide glass door advertising 'Mellark & Sons Bakery' and even the planter boxes hanging along the bottom of the picture windows brimming with cheerful pansies and peonies. Outward appearances were always so important to my mother. The whole wold had to believe we were the perfect family. My mind drifts to my family, especially my mother.

She had been a hard, domineering woman hell bent on ruling our whole lives. I can count on one hand the times she gave me a kind word, a compliment or even a simple thanks. Instead I feared her, shying away from her presence, and avoiding any contact. On the days I could not steer clear of her I never spoke, moving softly from station to station, completing my work silently. Even then she would still find something to berate me about.

As memories are wont to do, my mind wanders to that fateful day when Katniss and I were eleven. I had seen her through the large front windows of the bakery, slowly trudging through the torrential rain and mud, searching for something. I surreptitiously eased the oven's timer back on the last two loaves I was baking that afternoon. I thought that my mother had retired for the day as she had already lectured me about the closing tasks and my ineptitude in doing them. But I knew if my father were to discover me he wouldn't mind my sharing some burned bread with someone needier than us.

As soon as the loaves were slightly burnt, really no more that a dark toasting, I eased them out of the oven. I had actually planned on wrapping them in a thick towel and taking them out to Katniss. My mother, as fate would have it, reappeared in the door way.

"What in the _hell _do you think you're doing?" She screamed.

My heart lurched to my stomach, sweat beading over my skin. The skin on my scalp pulled back tightly.

"I, uh, um..." I croaked out.

"You stupid ass! Now how are we supposed to sell this?" She demanded, gesturing wildly at the dark loaves. "Who the hell is going to buy this? You can't even do one damn thing right! Eleven fucking years old and I have to watch you like a baby."

Movement outside the bakery caught her eye and she narrowed in on Katniss.

"You little fuck." she spat out at me. Her hand swung out and her wedding rings caught my face sharply. I could feel the scratches burning. My eyes clenched shut, involuntarily. Without warning a thick, searing pain tore through my cheek, atop the bone. I vaguely feared it was broken. Tears sprang up immediately as I crumpled gracelessly to the floor under the momentum of the blow. She threw the rolling pin into the sink, the loud clang of it reverberating off the porcelain then echoing through the room.

"Throw them to the damn hogs, or so help you! And then clean this shit up NOW!" She pivoted on her heel and was gone.

I lay there a few seconds, struggling to suck in oxygen to my burning lungs. When she didn't return I gingerly eased up off the floor and meekly gathered the bread. I inched out the door into the torrential rain and along the house to the hog's pens, listening for the tell-tale sound of a window or door scraping open. Quickly I pinched off a small piece from the first loaf and thew it to the stinking animals then lobbed the loaves toward Katniss as hard as I could, terrified that they wouldn't reach her or my mother would one. Her small, emaciated faced looked over at me, gratitude washing over her, then relief. I tried smiling at her but my nerve ran out and I scrambled for the door.

I watched her from the window, hunkered down so that only the top of my head showed. My eyes followed her as she scooped them out of the rain, jammed them down her shirt and took off running.

I knew it wasn't much, but I knew that I had somehow helped her. A bitter feeling of inadequacy washed over me as I realized that she needed more than I could give.

The angry rumble of thunder shook me out of my reverie and I hurriedly toweled up the puddle that had pooled at my feet, not needing another reason for my mother's wrath.

The feelings of helplessness, fear and shame from that long ago incident forces another memory into my mind, one that occurred during my time as the Capitol's prisoner. I had been strung up for hours that particular day, my hands shackled and then chained to a large, rusty loop bolted in the ceiling so long that my hands and arms had long since gone numb. I was too exhausted to hold my weight for long periods of time, so I alternated between excruciatingly bearing my weight on my weak wrists then trying to pull up to a standing position. My thin body trembled and I felt light headed from the ever present hollowness of my empty stomach. I swear I think we had more to eat in the arenas then what they had given me.

Before me was a large screen that looped various scenes of Katniss and I. Here we were in the cave, kissing; another she and I were laying together in her bed on the train. Intimate images and candid brief moments flashed by incessantly. A hulking figure hidden among black robes snaked out from behind me to plunge a syringe of clear fluid in my arm. I could see it empty out but the jab of the needle was painless. Suddenly the burn of the tracker jacker venom stung through my veins as if hot magma had replaced the blood in my entire body. Involuntarily my frame began to twist and writhe against the metal bonds, my head flinging from side to side in utter agony. A scream tore from my vocal cords straining them so badly that before long I had lost my voice. Strong hands held my head from behind forcing me to watch the screen. When I refused by clenching my eyes shut, the hooded figure stepped in front of me to push metal clips around my lids, holding my eyes wide. Quickly, intermingling with the visions of Katniss and I were shots and clips of those God awful Mutts from the first game, the ones with human eyes that tore Cato into shreds. Their clips began playing slower and longer until they took the form of Katniss. She merged, her grey orbs peering menacingly from a Mutt's face. Suddenly the unimaginable agony of a whip began slashing through my bare back. It was more than I could bear and thankfully I succumbed to oblivion.

A booming thud brings me back to reality with a start. My heart beats roughly in my chest, radiating rings of pain. My whole body jerks and thick, anxious sweat oozes from my pores. The brightness of the mid day sun begins fading into darkness. Panic threatens to overtake me as I realize that another attack is closing in.

I take off running for my house. If only I can barricade myself inside I'll be all right. The thoughts of what can happen if I give into this now, out in broad daylight, pushes me harder. My bad leg screams in agony as I drive faster, limping harshly. Suddenly I can make out the archway of Victor's Village.

If anyone is witnessing my jerky gallop they don't try to intervene, thankfully. Just as I hone in on my door I realize Katniss is leaving her's. While her eyes take in my harried appearance and fast gait, terror and familiarity wash over her. She abandons her bag and takes off running toward me.

"NO!" I scream at her, waving her away. "GO, just GO!"

As I lunge through the door, the attack threatening to overtake me right now, she catches me in her surprisingly strong arms.

"You have to go," I squeak out.

"I'm not leaving you alone in this." She she kicks the door behind her close, then pulls me down to the cold stone floor. I begin spasming and jerking in her arms, my eyes losing focus as the shiny, hateful memories win out.

I can hear her sobbing out my name, but I can't pull myself out of the attack to answer her. I can only let the memories run their course. Finally, my muscles release their painful clench and I go limp, pulling in ragged breaths to sate my burning lungs. The tears begin to flow in earnest and I cling to her for dear life.

She sooths my brow with her warm touch, then my face and hair while her other hand traces circles and patterns against my back. She weeps right along with me.

After a particularly intense night of deep, hungry kisses and roaming hands, I lay in bed holding Katniss to my chest possessively. I believe, that over these past months that's she's finally opened up to me completely. The only thing is, we've been through some pretty horrific things in our short lives and I still secretly wonder if what Katniss feels for me isn't more akin to that bond it forged; whether she truly loves me or is afraid of being alone. She's never been good at talking about her feelings; being a wordsmith was always my forte. Her actions are what show me how she's evolving and growing. Several times now I've tried to admit my feelings for her, but I always lose my courage. I just don't think I'm ready for the heartbreak of knowing if it's not the same for her.

Chapter 9

Finally, it's the grand opening of 'Mellark's Bakery'. I tried, in vain, to convince Katniss that I wanted to name it something that encompassed both of us, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

She's come a long way since I first began working with her in the kitchen. Usually, at the end of the day the only thing she had accomplished in cooking was her fingertips. She would trudge out of the kitchen, more often than not covered in flour, a weight of defeat hanging from her shoulders. But in the end, she got the hang of it, as I knew she would.

Now she's just as capable as I am in most of the basics: breads, muffins, rolls and the like. But it's still up to me to decorate the cakes and ice the cupcakes. We both agreed, for the sake of profit, she'd just stay away from that area. I smile inwardly as I remember the last cake she tried to decorate, I thought it had looked more like a lumpy rock than anything.

Our first day was fast and tiring. It seemed that the entirety of District 12 had passed through our doors. Finally, when it was time to close and lock up, we were exhausted. I smiled wearily at her, as she began loading up the few unbought baked goods, mostly loaves of plain bread, to take home. I counted down the cash register and tucked the money away in the wall safe. Having that much cash was a bit intimidating. We really have no banking system here in 12 and I'm not entirely sure how to handle this much money. My parents, or rather my mother, was always in charge of our finances before. I finally decide that, for now, the best place for it is in the safe. I feel rather unprepared for not thinking of this detail until now. Before the week is out, I'll be sure to have a lare safe installed at home.

Katniss and I both share in the cleaning; she sweeps and scrubs down the counters while I wash the pans and tins. A few quick swipes of the glass cases and doors leave them shining. We look around, both searching for a detail missed and amazed that this place is ours. For that is what it truly is: _ours_. I made Katniss partner, fifty-fifty.

She was hesitant at first when I showed her the deed. She tried to persuade me not to do this, that it should be only mine. But she's my partner, has been for almost two years now, through thick and thin. I told her as much and she finally relented. The only thing she wouldn't budge on was the name.

That evening, as the sun was just beginning it's slow descent behind our far-off hazy mountains, we walk home hand in hand, content over a job well done. Our conversation is sparse, but not necessary. Periodically she looks up at me with a small smile splayed upon her lips. I squeeze her hand tight.

"Are you happy, Peeta?," she asks abruptly in the dusky air, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"More than I've ever been in my entire life." I respond truthfully.

I stop walking and she looks back at me quizzically. "Are _you_ happy, Katniss? Truly?" I hold my breath, bated.

"Very much so." She toys with her bottom lip, her teeth worrying it unconsciously. I raise an eyebrow at her, asking her to continue.

"I mean, sure, it's not the life I always imagined," she begins, and my stomach drops. "And there are a few things I'd change, but yes, I'm happy. And mostly I'm happy because you're here with me. I can't imagine my life without you in it." She tugs my hand forward, indicating she wants to continue walking.

My mouth opens even before I'm aware of what I'm doing. "What about Gale?" He's been looming at the back of my mind for a while now.

She doesn't speak for several seconds, her teeth worrying on her lip again, her face briefly falling. "What Gale and I had, what we were, was never anything but platonic, at least for me. I think he thought he was in love with the _idea _of me. I sometimes wonder if he ever truly knew me at all.

"There were times when he would be so shocked by my words or actions. He'd look at me with this unbelieving, disappointed face and I'd think to myself: 'we've been friends for almost five years and sometimes I don't even know you.' Gale could only truly love one thing: the fight. Even if I did love him, I'd only ever come in a lukewarm second in his heart.

'"Can I tell you a secret?" she continued, glancing over at me.

"Of course." I stammered, still processing her words.

"I'm glad he's gone. In the end, I doubt we could ever find our way back to what we were. And it'd be too hard to even try." She sighed, a tiny audible gasp, and then it seemed as if her shoulders lifted from letting go of a heavy burden.

My heart is singing. I don't know if she loves me, but now I do know she doesn't love _him_. That even were he to come back tomorrow, I don't have to worry about what would happen.

I clutch her small hand tighter in mine and pull her in close to drape my arm around her shoulders, then plant a kiss on the top of her head. She loops her arm around my waist and we walk home in happy silence.


	4. Part 4

Chapter 10

Every day it seems that District 12 gains new inhabitants. Most are just returning to their true home, tired of the oppressive nature of 13. Many are newcomers in every sense of the word, citizens from various Districts and ways of life foreign to us searching out a new life among us. I secretly wonder if any are spies from the Capitol but I try to push that thought away before it can morph into another attack.

Delly, I was excited to see, had returned as well. While she and I were much closer when we were children, we had always remained on good terms, though now I owe her a debt of gratitude I'm unsure if I'll ever be able to repay as long as I live.

Those maddening weeks when I was first rescued and brought to District 13 were almost unbearable. I'm now ashamed to admit I wished often and fiercely for my death, be it by my own hands or from the ever present guards. Delly, though, brought me an iota of familiarity that seemed to ease my psyche, if only for a few minutes a day. She would quietly slip into my room, slowly ease herself to the floor near my bed, and then we would talk. She amiably chatted about our old lives, classmates and long forgotten childhood pranks. Subtly she would sometimes mention Katniss in a round about way, forcing me to remember things about her that the Capitol wouldn't have been able to alter. When my fatigued brain would begin to tune her out she would just as quietly inch out, almost as if she hadn't been there in the first place.

She had been a firm defender of Katniss's when others complained about or criticized her. I knew that Delly was truly a good person; kind and sweet and that she would never betray someone she considered a friend. She unknowingly helped me to understand that my brain's views of who and what Katniss was were false. And that was the first step in healing myself. Delly was a key component in Katniss and mine's reunification. I only hoped that she would somehow find the happiness like Katniss and I shared. I wonder if she knows Thom. I think, if not, I'll introduce them; they would be good for each other.

As if just thinking of her, Delly appeared at my doorstep several days later. The bakery was closed as we aren't open on Sundays and after lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Katniss was off in the woods hunting and I was catching up on a few things around the house, our typical Sunday routine.

Her visit was a surprise. I had been meaning to stop by and see her one day this week, to catch up with her. When I pulled the door open to greet her, she laughed brightly.

"Peeta!" she cried, closing in quickly to pull me into a tight hug. "How are you doing?"

I grinned broadly. "Delly!" I replied, returning her tight squeeze. "I'm doing really well. Things have definitely turned around for me. How about you?"

"Good, pretty good." She eyed the inside of my house slowly.

"Come in, let me show you around." I took her on a brief tour of the downstairs, although I never thought of my house as anything special. The greatest part, for me, is that it's all mine. Growing up in a three bedroom house and sharing a room with two brothers: well let's just say privacy was not a familiar thing to any of us.

After we roamed through the living room and the study, acknowledged the bathroom and laundry room, we ended up in the kitchen slash dining room. It's one of my favorite rooms in the house, and I spend most of my free time here. One of the only splurges I made when moving into my home was having all the latest and greatest appliances and fixtures installed in the kitchen. Secretly I still marveled over the newness and stark beauty of everything, silently of course. Men marvel at things silently.

She perched herself down at the small table in the nook, and I immediately resumed work on a new recipe I was trying out. We slipped into our old familiar conversations about everything and nothing all at once. The hours seems to slide away as we remembered our classmates from school along with the teachers we loved or hated.

She was the one who remembered that time in second grade when we, or rather _I_, had put a large fake rubber snake in the teacher's desk drawer and simply waited until she had discovered it.. The teacher found it alright, along with a paddle to wear us out with.

"I remember not sitting down for a week, too!" She agreed, laughing amiably. I laughed along with her, but _I_ also remembered earning a a few scars along my back where my mother used her switch a little too roughly, I kept that part to myself though. I recalled the time she had developed a crush on Reuben Thompson in the fifth grade and mooned over him for two weeks. Of course that in turn led to her reminding me when she figured out I had a crush on Katniss.

"I think we were in pre-school wasn't it?" She teased.

"Oh, ha ha." I deadpanned. I think it was more like..."

"The day you were born?" She giggled, holding a hand over her mouth.

I joined her at the table, refreshing our tea. "Now I see why you came over, to make fun of me." I dramatically held my hand over my heart, a look of despair painted over my features.

I watched Delly's face contort through several emotions before she wiped her face free of them. She took my hand in her small one.

"You know, Peeta, I'm really glad that you're OK. I hope you know, back at 13, I was only trying to help." She dropped her eyes.

"What's brought this on, Delly?" I questioned, not sure of her motive at the moment.

"I always felt I made things worse for you. Those doctors would come find me every day if I didn't show up. They told me to talk, talk about anything, but I knew I shouldn't. ."

"Delly, let me tell you something." I took her hand in mine. "You've given me more than you'll ever know. I-"

Suddenly there was a clatter in the archway between the kitchen and the living room. Katniss was standing there, having dropped her bag to the floor, staring. Her eyes were dark, unreadable.

"Katniss!" I started, dropping Delly's hands. "Look who's come to see us!"

Katniss smiled, but the warmth never spread to her gey orbs. She slowly strode over to where we sat, pulling Delly into a small hug. "It's good to see you again. How are you?"

"Just like I was telling Peeta, I'm doing really well. Real well." She glanced over at the clock on the wall. "Crap!" She jumped up. "I didn't mean to be here so long. I gotta run."

She pecked me slightly on the cheek, then hugged Katniss again, firmly. "Thanks you guys." She called from the doorway as she pulled it shut.

"Did you have a good day?" I ask Katniss.

"Yeah, sure." She replies. "I'm really dirty, so I'm going to take a shower. Be back soon." Indicating that was going back to her house.

She retrieved her bag, then was gone.

Chapter 11

That night we lay in bed, silent but awake. Ever since Delly left, Katniss has been acting odd. I tried several times during dinner to ask if she was alright, but she seemed to divert me every time.

"So, Delly..." she begins.

"Yeah, it was good seeing her." I think this must be a trap but I don't for the life of me know how to avoid it.. "I'm glad she's back. It's nice having a few more familiar faces."

Suddenly she rolls, facing me. The sudden movement startles me and I jerk back.

"Do you have feelings for her?" She asks, then just stares, her eyes piercing through me.

'Uh, no. Is this a trap?" I stammer.

"No Peeta. I just...you two just looked really cozy. And I don't want to.. Oh hell!" She rolls her back to me.

Wait a minute. My poor, befuddled brain seems to catch up. Katniss, I do believe, is jealous.

There are so many things I want to say, everything all at once. I want to pledge my love to her, devote myself to her for all eternity, enumerate all the reasons why she's the best part of my life and how I wouldn't even have a life if she weren't in it. But words aren't the same for her. Katniss is a woman of actions. So I act.

I grab her by the upper arms, forcefully, and turn her back to face me. Her eyes widen at my sudden command of the situation. "Still, after all this time, you have no idea the effect you have on me." I bite out hoarsely.

I bring my lips down on hers, hard, crushing them. I want her to feel everything I've kept hidden inside. I want her to know how I feel, have no doubt in her mind of my intentions. I drag my tongue along her lower lip then slide it into her mouth. I claim her, dominate her. The heat in my kiss burns hotter, darker. She moans deeply in the back of her throat as I tug her lip with my teeth then nibble on it deftly. She brings her hand to skim my cheeks.

My hands roam her body, until they find her breasts through her thin sleep shirt. I knead and caress, and when their firm peaks pronounce through the material I tweak and pinch them. Her own hands find themselves torn between twisting through my hair and cupping themselves around the back of my neck.

She pulls away, only to stare up at me with confused eyes. "Peeta?" she trembles.

I place a shaky finger to her lips. "Once and for all, I'm going to prove to you how I feel. So that there's never going to be any doubt."

Without warning, I jerk her top over her head and throw it behind us, then grasp her wrists to hold them over her head with one hand, as I twist her body underneath mine. My other hand begins a much slower journey along her body, sliding down across her cheek,then her neck, then tracing a path along her collar bones to settle upon her firm breast, gently massaging. My mouth begins a slow, sensual onslaught upon the other mound. I roll my tongue around her nipple, before biting gently upon the firm peak. She meekly tugs at her wrists, but I only tighten my grip on her.

I suckle at her breasts, while my free hand begins to roam anew. I caress her flat stomach, her hips, then move on toward her inner thighs. She goes still in the dark. "Shh, it's okay baby." I whisper huskily, but still my roaming hand to be sure she accepts me. Finally she relaxes. "I want you so bad..." I sigh against her taut skin.

Her breathing hitches several times followed by moans and slight grunts. As my fingers ghost over her core, her hips buck reflexively. I smile. Finally she jerks her wrists free of my hold and her hands crash down on my back. They scorch my body as they wildly trace the hard muscles and planes. I bring my other hand back to caress her breast while I continue my assault.

I bring her mouth back to mine in a fevered kiss, as she throws a leg over my ass, pushing us closer. I firmly tug her panties down, then toss them away. She gasps loudly, her hands stilling along my back. Slowly, I gently ease a finger past her folds to rub the small bundle of nerves at it's apex.

"Peeta!" She cries out, her hips bucking again.

"God, you're so wet," I exhale against her mouth. I deliberately pump my finger inside of her, letting my thumb resume rubbing her clit. She mewls as I trace my tongue along her lower lip, then plunge it back into her mouth.

I begin to work her faster and harder, until she comes around my finger, her walls clenching my digit tightly, a quivering mass beneath me.

Her moans and gasps have my cock rock hard between us. She smiles up at me, timidly, before she begins to ease my pants and boxer briefs down my hips. I help her along when it reaches my stump by easing off her to my side. Her timid hand grasps my cock and it twitches in her palm. She slowly closes her fingers around it and begins a long, slow stroke up and down. I just about lose it then. I throw my head back, groaning "Katniss." Her movements become bolder as I whisper slight instructions in the dark, before gently pulling her hand back. Her eyes flash to mine quizzically, hurt. "I don't want this to end so quickly, baby." I kiss her forehead.

I roll over top of her again, her hands coming to rest at my sides as I begin to kiss her anew. My kisses have morphed from assertive and domineering to fiery and passionate. My hands go to her face, pulling her up to look me in the eyes. I widen them slightly, asking permission.

"Now, Peeta, please!" she roughly cries out.

I rub the head of my cock along her wet folds, teasing her. She moans, and bucks her hips, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "Oh God, Katniss," I cry out as I slowly push inside of her, meeting her barrier. She hisses, pulling her knees in together over me.

"Shh, baby." I tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear and gently kiss her neck. I push my hips farther, probing slightly more, until I break through, plunging deep inside. She cries out, a thick moan. I lay there, giving her time to adjust to my girth, peppering her lips and neck with kisses.

She begins to move beneath me, letting me know she's ready. I languidly pull out, then push back in faster, then faster still. She moans as I lean my forehead on her breasts, our breathing haggard. She presses her heels into my ass.

"Almost there," she groans.

"Come with me, baby. Come on..." I grunt, pounding into her.

"PEETA!", she screams into the dark, her core milking my cock through her orgasm as I reach mine too. I shoot my seed deep into her, collapsing over her. Our pants echo out into the room for a minute or two as we take in what just happened.

I plant a kiss upon her swollen lips, languid but passionate, then I whisper: "You love me. Real or not real?" My heat skips a beat, as she sighs out, "Real."

**A/N: Sorry this chapter is a bit short, as I wanted the last scene to be the most powerful piece in the this part. Once again, a HUGE thank you to everyone who has Reviewed, Followed, of Favorited this story. It means a lot.**


	5. Part 5

Chapter 12

The next morning I awake to find Katniss lying on her side, staring at me.

"Good morning, love." I say, my voice still froggy from sleep. She smiles as I twine our fingers together and reach over to kiss her lips. The kiss deepens as we sensuously explore each other's mouths. Finally I pull back, looking deep into her sated eyes. "How are you feeling?"

She caresses my cheek with her rough hand. "I love you Peeta." She kisses the tip of my nose.

I fear my face may crack in half, the smile plastered across is is so wide. "I love you too, Katniss. You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say that."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for a lot of things." She begins.

"No, we're not doing that." I tell her softly as I tug a lock of stray hair behind her ear. "We're here, and whatever we've been through has brought us to this place."

"No, it's just that...I'm not so good at..." She sighs deeply. "I feel things, and then I get scared. Then I run away. I want to talk to you about it, or tell you how I feel, but I'm not very good at it. I'm always afraid I'll say the wrong words. Sometimes I feel so inadequate for you." She worries her lip with her teeth.

"I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll do this together. You want to talk, I'll listen. Don't ever be afraid to tell me anything. But first..." I ease her beneath me and begin a slow onslaught of her mouth. My hands roam over her body as she brings her arms around my neck. My hands find their way to her glorious breasts and I slowly and methodically knead and massage them, tweaking the nipples.

Her breathing begins to hitch again, and I inch myself down her body, placing kisses and love bites along the way.

"What are you-?" she starts as I pull back her folds, already wet, and timidly run my tongue along her slit. "Oh God," she cries out, her hands twisting in my hair, pulling.

"just something I've always wanted to do." I laugh. Her mewls and pants encourage my inexperience, and I bring her to orgasm with only my mouth.

"Where did you learn that?" She eyes me suspiciously. "Have you ever...?"

"No, baby. You're my first and only. But I did have two older brothers. It was a little hard not to hear them comparing notes when all three of us shared a room. Luckily for me, I paid attention." I grinned up at her. She smiled back, her eyes hooded with lust.

Suddenly, her stomach emits a long growl. "I think someone needs to eat." I laugh, kiss her stomach, then ease over to the end of the bed to find my discarded limb. I pull my legs over the side of the bed to reattach it. Katniss leans over my shoulder, kissing my cheek, before dropping to the floor to retrieve our underclothes.

"You know, you don't really need to wear anything if you'd rather not." I say to her. "I just want you to be as comfortable as possible." I giver her my best pious face.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's it." She laugh and tosses my underwear to me.

After a busy day at the bakery, Katniss retrieves her bow from her house and traipses off to the woods for a few hours of hunting. Knowing that I may not have another opportunity, I quickly retrieve Katniss's pearl and head over to Haymitch's.

After practically beating the door down, he finally cracks it open to peer hazily at who his visitor is. "Good God, Haymitch, just open the damn door. Who'd you think it was, the tooth fairy?"

"Touchy are we, boy?" He drags the door wider to allow me inside. I kick several empty bottles and piles of trash away from my path. Falling down in all this rubble is exactly what I want to do.

"You need someone to clean this pig sty." I wrinkle my nose at odors alone.

"You come over here to bitch at my housekeeping or did you actually need something?"

"I actually need your help on something." I respond, ending the good natured taunts. I produce the pearl from my pocket, along with a sheet of sketch paper. "I need this made into a ring, and I don't know who to go to for it."

He takes the paper from my hand and studies the sketch I drew. It's a pearl ring, an engagement ring. I've designed a row of diamond to curve off the side of the band and curl around the pearl. Inscribed along the inside of the band are our married initials: K.M. & P.M. along with one word: Always. I hope she'll like it.

Haymitch turns the paper around, studying it from all angles. "It's not a treasure map...Here." I pull it from his grasp, turn it right side up, then hand it back. He studies it a few minutes longer then hands it back. "Nice," is all he allows.

"So do you think you can get it done for me? I'd have asked Effie but I haven't talked to her since before...well you know."

He glares at me balefully, then sighs. "You know kid, if I'd have know you guys would be bothering me so damn much, I think I'd have probably moved somewhere else. Like the highest mountain in 2." Then he belched, surrounding me with the stench of old whiskey.

"Nice, Haymitch." I waved my hand in front of my face to diffuse the smell.

"Look if you don't want to do this, just tell me." I knew Haymitch drug his feet on _everything_ but right now I really wasn't in the mood to play his games. I wanted that ring back, like yesterday.

"Let me guess, you gonna propose to that little Hellcat a yours?" he smirked.

"No, I was hoping you'd do me the honor." I batted my eyelashes at him.

He grimaced. "Not funny boy. I'll make some phone calls. Can get this wired out tomorrow and it'll probably be back next week."

"DO NOT lose that pearl. And throw a little money at them and see how much faster I can get it back." I pulled out my wallet.

"Eh, keep yer damn pennies. Let this one be on me. What else I got to spend my money on? And don't say a fucking housekeeper."

"Thanks Haymitch." I turned to leave, smiling at him.

"Good job, Kid. Now let's just hope she says yes." He guffawed at his witless joke. I smirked, then slipped out the door.

Chapter 13

Katniss returned a few hours later, just after dark had set in. She proudly showcased her catch, a few squirrels and several fat rabbits. After she had cleaned two of the rabbits and I threw them into a stew, I pulled her up the stairs.

I led her to the master bath silently.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"We're going to take a shower...eventually.", I proclaim arching an eyebrow. I pushed her against the door and ravaged her mouth while my hands pulled and tugged her clothes to the floor. I eased out of my own and stepped into the large shower, pulling her in with me.

While I scrubbed and rinsed her hair she studied a hang nail or some other invisible thing on her finger.

"Alright, what is it?" I asked, turning her to face me.

"When we got reaped the first time, at the Capitol, doctors prescribed me birth control pills to help regulate some, uh, lady issues." Her cheeks flamed scarlet and she dropped her head.

"Your period? It's not a bad word Katniss, I know what it is." I eased her face up to meet mine.

"Yeah well, anyway, I've been taking them ever since. I don't want any children, Peeta. Ever." I'd be lying if I didn't say that didn't hurt. I've always imagined a family with Katniss. "I know how much you love children. And I 'm sorry. I'll telling you now, in case, you know, you want to..."

"I'm not going anywhere. I've got you. That's enough." I pulled her in for a hug, if only to hide my heart-broken eyes from her. I guess it would have to be enough.

We finished our shower chastely and dried off. I was still very quiet, digesting the news that Katniss has given me.

Since Katniss and I first became intimate, our relationship has subtly shifted. Before that night, even though Katniss and I were together, we still led a smaller, separate life. And while she always ended up in my bed at the close of the day, many afternoons or evenings we'd spend them alone.

But now, it's different, more domestic. I asked her, the other morning as we were walking to work, if she'd like to move in with me. I held my breath ,anxious, while she pondered. Her walking slowed, and her eyes glazed over. Then she smiled, and looked up at me.

"I'd like that very much, Peeta."

"This fall, I'd like transplant Prim's bushes to our front yard."

"No." she responded sharply.

I turned my head to her, surprised at her answer.

"I'd rather make a cutting from them, and plant new ones. It'll almost be as if she were spreading her love from my home to yours."

"Ours."

"Ours," she agreed.

That afternoon, we packed all the things she wanted to take to my house, and quite frankly it was only a few boxes worth. I think, for her, it was a cleansing experience, being able to get away from the perpetual memories. I couldn't imagine having to return to my childhood home, walking amongst the ghosts of my dead family.

We spent the rest of the night reorganizing _our_ home to make way for her things and then christening our relationship, having succeeded to the next level.

Chapter 14

After almost two weeks of torturous anticipation, Haymitch called one day at the bakery to announce I had a package at his house. Luckily, Katniss was out making a few deliveries. Now I could quit killing myself to intercept all the phone calls we received. I told him I'd be by that evening after work.

I waited until Katniss had just gotten into the bath when I announced I had forgotten to take Haymitch some bread I had made him earlier that day. I grabbed two loaves out of the cabinet, wrapped them in a towel and ran out the door.

If I could have made it, and not landed flat on my ass, I probably could have skipped to Haymitch's stoop. He no sooner had the door opened, when I pounced.

"Where is it, have you looked at it? It is beautiful?"

"Slow down, kid. Hell." But the smile plastered across his face belied his harsh words.

He pulled out a small, velvet black box from the cardboard box it had been shipped in and gingerly placed it into my open palm.

I cracked the lid back, slowly. Then Haymitch and I just gasped. The ring was more beautiful that I could ever have imagined. The pearl gleamed darkly amid the shiny platinum and diamonds. I fought back tears, the weight of what I was going to do finally sinking in. I held in my hand the symbol of the depths of my feelings for Katniss.

"Thank you Haymitch." I pulled him in for a tight hug. He allowed my embrace for a few seconds then pulled back.

"All right. Get off." He tugged at the hem of his shirt. "It's no big deal, kid." But I knew he felt differently.

I hadn't been gone but a few minutes, but in that time Katniss had set the table and served our meal. We ate in silence, and every so often I'd catch her staring at me with an odd look across her face. I was sweating bullets.

I had planned out how I wanted to propose, with a large meal and an evening spent naked in front of the fireplace. But now, somehow, it felt so cliched and overdone. I wanted this to be the most amazing and perfect thing that I had ever done.

"Alright. Out with it." He stared levelly at me.

I swallowed my bite wrong and started choking. "What?" I finally croaked out.

"Ever since you got back from Haymitch's you've been acting funny. What's going on?"

Oh crap. My heart stuttered. "I uh...well it's just." And I knew, there was no way I was going to be able to pull off a believable lie for any length of time. "Ill show you, upstairs."

She started out of her chair.

"Well let me eat first." I tried to pull off my most nonchalant face.

"Fine," she grumbled.

Eating slowly, stretching our meal out for as long as I could, my mind worked furiously. I imagined sentences and scenarios until finally I gave up. _I'm just going to say it, just ask. Tell her all my feelings and the truths and just bare my soul. It's not like she's going to say no. _But truthfully, I wasn't a hundred percent sure. Katniss has always been very vocal about her feelings on marriage.

Finally our meal was over, and the dishes were practically thrown into the sink by Katniss.

"Now, show me what you're hiding."

I took her hand in mine, praying that it wasn't shaking as badly as my insides. Surreptitiously, my other hand palmed the velvet box hidden deep in my pants pocket. I led her into the bedroom and deposited her upon the bed. I turned, as if to retrieve something from my dresser and pulled the box out from my pocket.

After taking a deep breath, I knelt down on one knee, in front of her. Her eyes widened into huge grey saucers, her mouth opening into a wide "O".

"Katniss, I love you with all my heart. I have _always _loved you, since the first day I ever laid eyes on you. That was never a lie. You are my life and without you I have nothing. If something were to happen to you, I would never make it."

"I know that scares you." I continued. "I know how your mother fell apart after your father died, and that you've always vowed to never be like her. And I understand, but truly, you _are _my everything." Then I slowly opened the small box, holding it out to her. "Please, Katniss, will you marry me?"

And then she just stared at me, and _that's_ always encouraging.

It felt like forever, her eyes just boring into me, and I began to get scared.

Now, I've been scared before. Unless you've ever been through the reaping and the arenas, the tracker jacking, the war and all of it's aftermath, you've no idea just how tight terror can take a hold of you and squeeze. But somehow, this was worse. Because now, I truly do have everything to lose. I slowly pull in a harsh breath.

And then, as if the sun were breaking through a fierce storm she smiled brightly. Her eyes lit up and she jumped from the bed to crash into me, knocking us both to the hard, wooden floor roughly.

"Oh Peeta," she cried out. She grasped my face in her hands, and crashed her lips to mine. We came together in a battle of lust and excitement, harsh and heated. "Oh, Peeta," she repeated. "I love you so much."

I eased up to my knees, making sure my prosthetic was situated, and took her left hand. I reverently pulled the ring from it's snug fit in the box, then slid it up her finger. "I love you too." I kissed her softly on the lips.

"It's my pearl!" she cried out. "I thought I had lost it forever. How did you..." she stopped, mid sentence, a small tear sliding down her cheek. "I was so devastated because it was gone, and somehow I believed by losing it, I had lost you. And then you had come back to me." She wiped roughly at her tears.

I kissed the tracks her tears had taken, " I'll always come back to you, no matter what. I would fight heaven and hell to be with you. Always." I kissed her ring, and then her.

All evening I had watched her from the corner of my eye play with her hand, hold the ring to the light, and gaze lovingly at the pearl. Obviously, we were both on cloud nine.

We had just turned in for the night. I had no more eased my prosthetic to the floor and settled next to her when she turned to me. "You're right, what you said earlier." She blurted out.

I tugged an eyebrow up in question.

"It does scare me. Watching my mother lose herself after my father's death. Leaving us all alone, sitting ten foot away. I never want to allow myself to become like her. But Peeta, the thought of never being with you again, of never having you in my life. That scares me even more."

My heart, my guts, my whole body, felt as if it exploded into a million tiny pieces. I know how hard it is for Katniss to say words like these. And that in itself is all the proof I'll ever need to know that she does love me, from the very bottom of her heart.

I pulled her to me into a tight embrace. My lips claimed hers, fervently. I tugged gently at her hair, pulling her head back to open to my kisses more.

My hands roamed and caressed her body, her hips, breasts, her back. She was already fighting with my clothes, trying to pull the sleep pants down. We broke apart, frantic, to remove our pajamas. And then I pulled her under me.

I suckled her breasts, tugging at the hard nipples, giving small love bites over the swell of each mound. One hand roaming over and kneading her ass, the other at her core. I plunged a finger into her deep, without warning, thrusting hard. She brought her knees up to my waist, a deep low moan building in the back of her throat. I aggressively pumped into her. Suddenly she shuddered, her whole body coming undone as her core trembled around my finger. She settled, bonelessly, beneath me.

"Oh God, Peeta." She panted. I claimed her lips once more.

She recovered quickly, pushing me back and flipping over me. She eased down my frame, level with my now throbbing cock, placing a light kiss on it's head, then lower still. Gently, she peppered small kisses along my stump, slowly working back up, until she nestled at my cock.

Slowly, she licked from the base to swirl her tongue around the head. She eased the length into her mouth then back out. Her eyes never left contact with mine, the passion in them breathtaking. Her pace quickened until she added her hand. I don't know how much longer I can last, my breath hitching with deep moans and hisses. She lavishes me with her tongue, up and down the shaft, alternating with her very dexterous hand. My balls began to tighten. "I'm coming," I grunt, as I spurt onto her.

She grins, devilishly. After quickly wiping my fluids away on a tissue from the nightstand, she eases her knees on each side of my waist, on all fours, with her hands on either side of my head. She leans down, taking my mouth, sliding her tongue against mine. Her teeth tug at my lip. Suddenly her mouth is on my neck, suckling, biting, licking. Her breath in my ear, soft, followed by the ghosting of words: "I belong to you, and you belong to me." Her tongue darts into my ear then licks around the folds. My breathing had raced to a hard pant. My cock is at full attention again.

She slides her her wet folds down the shaft, as I guide it in. She mewls in pleasure as I fill her, then begins a slow rocking. It takes us a few minutes to find the right position and speed. I think to myself how glad I am that she's as inexperienced at this as me. Her moans are deep and gutteral as she quickens the pace, bouncing then rocking forward. I grip her hips, fingers digging tighter, then lean up and take her breast in my mouth. I suckle, tug at the nipple and bite down gently.

"Peeta," she moans, and I can feel her orgasm clenching my cock tight. She rides me through her orgasm, and I quickly reach mine. I shoot my seed deep inside her, then she collapses on top of me, our breathing harsh and winded.

I gently roll her off of me and pull her into my side. She curls against me. I kiss her lips, chaste and gentle. "I love you, baby."

Her eyes, soft and relaxed, roll over my face. "I love you so very much, Peeta." She rests her hand over my chest to stare at her ring.

Chapter 15

The next morning, as the sun begins to peek through the curtains, I lie in bed watching her sleep. Her face is soft, the creases and lines nonexistent. Through the months, the hardness that had been present in her face for years was slowly erasing itself and her eyes were losing the cold bitterness that I had become accustomed to.

We still had our bad moments. Although less frequent, my tracker jacker attacks still over power me at times, and in fact one day just a week or so ago, Katniss spent the entire day in bed. She tried, but couldn't, to summon the strength to bear the memories that day. But I believe that we are getting better, through ourselves. I work harder every day to be able to provide the life for Katniss that she deserves. I fight the attacks just a little more, knowing that she needs me to be strong. All these things run through my head as I watch her sleep. And a fierce, possessive pride swells up inside of me. Katniss was right, last night. She _is_ mine, and I _am_ hers.

That morning, between customers, she brings up a wedding date. In my humble opinion we should have been born married, but I'm not going to push anything.

"So I was thinking," she declares between bites of a cheese bun. "I'd like to go tomorrow and get our license. I know my mother won't come and really, besides Haymitch there's no one else I'd ask."

"What about Johanna?" I venture. She and Katniss have a forged a unique relationship since their first encounter in a crowded elevator.

"She's still not doing all that great. Don't get me wrong, she'd made vast improvements, but I just don't think she's ready for something like this."

"Well than tomorrow it is." I announce, grinning madly.

Some things in our world haven't changed. To get married you simply marched down to the Justice Building, sign a few forms and are then issued your very own marriage license. Normally, afterward, the couple would perform the toasting ceremony in front of friends and family.

But we want this moment all to ourselves. We still remember, when not too long ago, we were forced to live our lives for the entertainment of the Capital.

Sunday, Katniss ventures, we can invite a few friends over and we'll have a celebration dinner to announce our marriage. I concur that it sounds just fine with me.

The next day, after work we walk to the Justice Building. We smile broadly at each other and anyone else we meet along the way, holding hands and sharing small words of love. Ten minutes later, Katniss is my wife.

I pull a small loaf from the oven and place it gently on a cooling mat on the counter. I have wracked my brain all day trying to decide what bread to bake for our toasting. I finally decided on a hearty wheat. To me, it signifies a strong steadfastness, durability and enrichment. All the things I hope for in our marriage.

I hear a knocking at the front door but Katniss calls from the living room saying she'll get it. In my mind I try to remember the toasting vows. It's been so long since I've heard them.

"Ready when you are," Katniss declares, bringing her arms around me from the behind. I jumped slightly, having been caught lost in my thoughts Finally, as if only needing her touch, the words lock into place, and I am truly ready.

We walk, hand in hand, me carrying the bread to the living room. It's the only room with a fireplace, which is fine with me. Katniss had layed out a warm comforter in the floor along with a few pillows. We eased ourselves down. My whole body broke out into a sweat. As much as I've wanted this practically my whole life, I'm still nervous and slightly afraid. I am now officially responsible for this woman and her life, to make it as best as humanly possible.

As if sensing my fears, she squeezes my hand in hers, then leans over to me and lightly brushes her lips on my cheek.

"Wait!" I cry out. "I almost forgot."

She looks over at me, quizzically as I pull myself up as fast as possible. I bend down, pluck her from the floor and carry her to the front door.

"Peeta, what are you doing?" she asks, staring at me like I've lost my mind.

I step outside, readjust my grip on her under her knees and behind her back, then step solemnly through the front door, kicking it shut behind me.

She finally gets what I was doing, then smiles and placed as small kiss on my cheek. I carry her over to the fireplace again and lay her gently on the blanket.

"You're so silly," she laughs as I ease down to the floor again. I position my false leg and turn to her.

"Well, that's part of it. I'm not half-assing anything this important. We're doing it right."

She lights the fire in the marble fireplace and we sit for a moment, watching the flames eat at the wood. I glance over at her a few times but she seems lost in her head. Finally she pulls herself out of her reverie and places her palm on my thigh.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Just putting a few things to rest." She leans across me to retrieve the loaf of bread.

After tearing it in half, she hands me my part and we skewer the bread on long kebab tines. We hold the bread in the flames, and I whisper: "Remember the last time I burnt bread for you?"

"Yes. I remember you saving my life that day. I remember that as the first time I realized who you were, and have never forgotten you since."

We pull our bread from the flames.

"Katniss," I begin. "You share my bread, you share my home. My life is yours, as yours is mine. I pledge my heart to you for all of time." My emotions try to choke my voice, but I fight it.

Katniss smiles at me, then begins, her eyes shiny. "Peeta, you share my bread, you share my home. My life is yours, as yours is mine. I pledge my heart to you...for _all _of time."

She reaches into her pocket with one hand and pulls out a simple band made of silver.

"What's that?" I ask.

"Haymitch ordered this for you, to match mine. His gift to us. He said you'd like it," then slips it on my left hand.

My own wedding band! Most men from District 12 never wore a wedding ring. Usually they either couldn't afford it or their jobs were too hazardous to allow it. My father did wear one, though, and I've always thought it quite an important part of a marriage. As much as I love seeing Katniss wearing my ring, I wanted the same. I wanted the whole world to know I am hers and she is mine.

I lean down and kiss her, passionately. "Mrs. Mellark."

"Mr. Mellark." she responds.

Together we take the first bite of our bread: husband and wife.

We consummate our marriage right there.

Epilogue

The months turn to years for Katniss and I. They weren't always easy but I can say they were always wonderful. We grew up together, learned and laughed together, and loved each other together. Katniss and I rarely had a disagreement or argument but when we did, it always seemed to be about the same thing: children. And it was usually a drop down, drag out fight.

I knew how Katniss felt about children; I had never forgotten that day in the shower when she had told me. But honestly, I just figured that somehow she would change her mind. I can't remember a time when I didn't dream of a family that included children. When Delly and I would play house, all those years ago, I was the Daddy taking care of the children while she was the Mommy who trudged off to work. I don't know many fourteen year old boys who daydream about being a father, but I did. And I'd be lying if I said I hadn't told Caesar Flickman the story about Katniss entering the arena pregnant because a huge part of me had wished desperately that is was so.

But I guess, sometimes, you can't always get everything you want. I imagine that I'm always tempting fate with my life. I have Katniss, the love of my life, and we were able to piece our lives back together after everything that happened, after all the reasons we should be long dead by now. But no, I want more. I want children with the one woman who can't bear to bring them into a world that would torture us with all those same reasons of why we should be dead. And I get it, I really do. But sometimes that's just not enough to let go of something.

Usually I can keep these things hidden deep down inside of me. But there are times when it just smacks me in the face and I can't deny it. And those are usually the times when we fight. We've been married for five years now and some days, it seems like five months.

Delly really did marry Thom, and I didn't have a thing to do with it. They simply found each other, sharing a common bond of the destruction and ruination they both had survived. And they really are good for each other.

oOoOoOo

On our ten year anniversary we closed the bakery for a few days and went to District 4. Katniss and her mother had grown closer over the years, but still, after all this time, Mrs. Everdeen cannot bear to visit. And so we went to her. Our time was brief, reconnecting with Annie and her son, who is the spitting image of Finnick, and spending as much time with Katniss's mother as possible. I think it has brought some sort of closure to Katniss and her nightmares are getting fewer and fewer.

Delly and her brood of children stop by the bakery about twice a week. She and Thom has four children: three boys, all rough and tumble and a sweet, but hardy girl. From the moment they step foot through the door until they leave, we play and laugh. I show them how to bake cookies or cupcakes and they regale me of their childish stories of innocence. I've come to count the days between their visits. Katniss will watch us together, her eyes slightly narrowed, a small smile hinting around the corners of her mouth.

I've never stopped wanting them, but I've learned over the years to leave the subject of children alone. It's not like Katniss and I aren't happy. Even after ten years, I love her more now that I ever thought possible. Our nights are full of passion and lust, our days full of happiness and the contentment of soul mates. But sometimes, late at night when her breath has evened off with sleep, I lie awake and picture what our children would look like. A feisty girl with her mother's hair and her father's eyes. Or maybe a son, with soulful grey eyes and his father's unruly blond tresses. They laugh and play and run to me with a scraped knee or lost teeth.

oOoOoOo

Fifteen years and I can't believe it. Our marriage was founded between teenagers. We may have been wise before our years, but we were kids just the same. The man I am now has matured and grown from that boy. Katniss and I have perfected the dance of marriage. We are completely open and honest with each other and she can now share her feelings and emotions, using words and not just actions.

Our bakery is a smashing success. We've expanded twice, and even take in orders from as far as District 2. Our success, though, is not measured in cakes or bags of flour but in our determination and absolute love for each other.

I've learned to let go of the hope for a son or daughter. And while I will always harbor the knowledge of just how wonderful we would be as parents, I know it will never be. I don't know what is less fair: forcing Katniss to bring an unwanted child into this world or denying me the right to love them. But I do know I cannot live without her.

Today at the bakery, Katniss informs me she has something to talk about tonight. I mean to ask her more, but Delly's bunch has just run in the door. They've grown so much over the years but still I'm 'Uncle Peeta' to them. Katniss just watches, an unreadable expression on her face, then retreats to the stockroom. There's a small part in the back of my mind that grows more worried.

That night after the meal is eaten and the kitchen cleaned, we gather in the living room to watch television.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" I ask, an edge of uncertainty creeping into my voice.

"This," Katniss responds as she takes my hand and places is on her stomach.

I look at her, not sure what she's doing. But there's something there, a slight bulge. If I didn't know her body so well, it would be almost impossible to detect.

"Is something the matter?" I begin to imagine diseases or illnesses.

"I stopped taking my birth control pills six months ago."

"I... You... What?" My brain is shutting down, I think.

"Peeta, I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby." She smiled up at me, joy and terror fighting for dominance in her face.

The dam I had forced everything behind suddenly breaks and I cry, wracking sobs shuttering through my body. She holds me tight.

"Thank you, Katniss." I choke out. "I love you so much, baby." And then I say them, the words I've longed to slide across my tongue for years. "I'm going to be a Daddy."

Our daughter was born first. And she does have her mother's hair and her father's eyes. And her mother's temper and her father's love of art. She's the perfect amalgamation of us. All the best parts of us brough forth into this world.

Katniss was consumed by her old fears more often than not. I would hold her and whisper comforting words and promises that this life, our life, is better now and worth living for. On the day my daughter was born and I held her, I knew then that life _was_ worth living and always will be. And Katniss was finally a believer too.

Our son followed a few years later and this time Katniss was able to hold off her fears even more. He's the opposite of his sister: blond curls and big, grey eyes. He's calm and quiet like his father with a deep love of the outdoors like his mother. Even as a toddler he yearns to roam the yard, just to wander and explore.

When they play in the meadow, running and laughing with each other, they've no clue the truth lying several feet below them. Katniss will turn to me, her eyes huge and terrified. I pull her to me, whispering the soft words of love. It will be okay, I tell her. That we have each other and the book. And that someday we can help them understand so that they will be brave too. Just like their parents, who fought so much to gain even more.

She's terrified of what they will think when they begin to understand about her nightmares, and why they won't ever really go away. Or when my eyes glaze over and I cling tightly to the back of a chair and tremble and shake until the attack is over. But I know they will understand. Until then, we play her game. The lists, the good things, the good memories. And we hold on to each other.

**THE END**

**A/N: That's it, I've done it! My first fanfic. Thank you to everyone who has faved, followed or reviewed (which I didn't know until recently you could respond to - silly me). Your encouragement has helped me to continue through.**


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